


Thorgasms

by Apriel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, Anal Fingering, Asexual Bruce Banner, Asphyxiation, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Worship, Bottom Thor (Marvel), Butt Plugs, Choking, Collars, Comfort Food, Comfort Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Desperation, Dom Natasha Romanov, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Femdom, Fluff, Forehead Kisses, Hurt Thor (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Mommy Kink, Non-Penetrative Sex, Overstimulation, Pegging, Pining, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Peter Quill, Puppy Play, Smut, Spooning, Submissive Thor, Tenderness, Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Top Peter Quill, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 08:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19269703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apriel/pseuds/Apriel
Summary: A small collection of fics dedicated to Thor being loved and cared for~





	1. Thorquill/Thunderstar

**Author's Note:**

> my thorkyrie fic doesn't seem to be doing so great so thought i'd try some different ships to express how much i need to see thor being loved & treasured (´Д｀。) if y'all leave nice comments i might take suggestions for future chapters~ title courtesy of bae ♡

 

After some time of travelling with the guardians of the galaxy, Thor has come to realise that certain feelings of his for a certain captain might extend beyond what one would call ‘friendly’.

 

The only one on-board who is aware of this is of course the only one who listens to Thor.

 

Gamora has been very gentle with him, even when he goes on at length about the topic...

 

“He doesn’t see me,” Thor dolefully acknowledges.

 

Gamora smiles and puts a reassuring hand on his back.

 

“He will,” she soothes. “In time. He’s an idiot, after all.”

 

Thor chuckles at that, feeling a little more hopeful.

 

He _wants_ Quill to notice that his feelings are there, but all the bickering and the banter that comes from Thor’s attempts at bonding escalate into arguments. Honest jokes get taken seriously, physical gestures are taken as patronising, and Quill never sees how Thor submits _every_ time _purely_ to avoid a fight.

 

Thor realises that Quill probably doesn’t _see_ it as flirting, he just sees it as irritating; thinking Thor is undermining him and opposing him constantly, when in actuality the thunder god is just trying to be helpful or to make him laugh.

 

He curses his heavy-handedness, but he doesn’t know how else to approach the situation without humour, and Quill is always primed to take offence regardless of what he says, it seems.

 

Having his efforts spurned hurts Thor more than he’d let on, but he plans to persist. After all, his brother is Loki, so Thor is no stranger to working hard in order to win someone over, and if he can earn _his_ favour then he can earn anyone’s.

 

Quill alerts them to prepare for take-off then, and they go to strap themselves into their respective seats, but Thor appreciates the look of confidence Gamora gives him. He’s the only one besides Groot that she is so gentle with.

 

They don’t travel far; Quill just wanted them out of that quadrant. After each bounty or heroic gesture the guardians tend not to linger, and there’s very little to stick around for on the outskirts of Knowhere anyway.

 

Come time to power down and get some sleep, Quill lands them at a fuel port on a Pizza Planet. It’s more convenient and much safer to pitch up rather than to anchor themselves in outer space.

 

Thor retires to his makeshift quarters in the cargo bay. It’s not luxurious but it’s comfortable enough and perfectly warm.

 

 _That_ had been another great source of dispute in fact.

 

On his first few nights Gamora had forced Quill to sleep in his chair and give his bed up to Thor, and while grateful for her sticking up for him and showing some semblance of hospitality, it had been one of many strikes Thor felt against his name in Quill’s book.

 

Admittedly he hadn’t slept so well that night, and the next day hadn’t been much better.

 

Quill was brimming with resentment that morning, and Rocket only made it worse by asking with an ever-sarcastic grin as to how ‘his majesty’ had slept, knowing full well Drax would naïvely enquire the same and call attention to the whole ordeal.

 

Truth be told, Thor hadn’t felt very welcome.

 

He settles down under his excess of blankets; Gamora had been more than generous in an attempt to make up for him having to sleep down here.

 

Thor doesn’t mind, but it does get a bit lonely, and reflecting on his difficult beginning as a guardian of the galaxy has him feeling somewhat defeated...

 

 

 

“Peter,” Gamora says sternly as the star lord tries to close the door on her.

 

“Listen, I don’t wanna’ talk about Thor!” he deflects, “good night!”

 

“ _Peter_!” Gamora snaps, bolstering her foothold in the doorframe by elbowing the sliding panel open wider.

 

Quill sighs and retreats, letting her in.

 

“Thor is upset,” she states, folding her arms. “He feels invisible.”

 

“Psh, I wish he were! Then he wouldn’t be getting under my feet every ten seconds,” the captain huffs, sitting down on the bed heavily and letting his breath go after a day of posturing. He’s taken to sucking his own gut in to exaggerate the appearance of Thor’s.

 

“Guy’s impossible to miss and a huge pain in my ass.”

 

Gamora softens. She’s emotionally intelligent enough for the whole team, and she can see that the disparity is felt on Quill’s end too.

 

She sits with him and appeals to the kind, tender man inside.

 

“Thor likes you a lot, Peter. He has very positive feelings toward you and you’re hurting him every time you push him out of the picture... you’re oversensitive with him... and you keep misreading his efforts to help you as an attack.”

 

Quill frowns, fixating on the part about feelings and wondering if she misheard whatever Thor had said to her to put that idea in her head.

 

“What’d he... actually say that? That he has feelings for me?” he asks with an interested smirk.

 

Gamora decides not to confirm or deny.

 

“If you want to know that I suggest you go and talk to him.”

 

She sees him mull it over, and then he sighs and drags a hand down his face before inevitably getting up and seeing her to the door.

 

“Alright,” he concedes. “Alright, I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Thank you, Peter,” Gamora finally smiles. “It will make things much more pleasant for all of us. And be nice,” she adds with a warning wag of her finger.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be nice,” Quill grumbles, rolling his eyes.

 

He puts his t-shirt back on then, having been halfway through undressing before Gamora came to harangue him. Not the kind of late night visit from her he’d like, but then, it never is.

 

He hums to himself as he makes his way into the hull, inadvertently deafening himself to the sounds of distant sniffling until he’s actually in the cargo bay where he finds Thor, clinging to a blanket and hiccupping.

 

“Hey,” he immediately sympathises, “hey, hey, what’s goin’ on here?”

 

Thor starts, choking on a sob as he sits up and quickly dries his eyes on the corner of the fleece.

 

“Hey, man,” Peter says again, sitting cautiously on the edge of the bed and giving Thor’s arm a little rub. “Y’alright? What’s the matter?”

 

“Ah, nothing,” Thor lies, forcing a smile. “Why should anything be the matter?”

 

Quill gives him a moment to process what he just said, but seeing that Thor seems to be sticking with it he gives the classic hitched eyebrows look and spells it out for him.

 

“Well... kinda’ looks like you were down here crying.”

 

“N-no, that’s ridiculous,” Thor grins, tell-tale tears still clinging to his lashes.

 

Quill never stopped to look at Thor so closely until now, but the pain in his eyes is palpable, and that sweet, faux-optimist’s smile only makes it worse.

 

“Hey, c’mere,” Quill softens completely, pulling Thor into a hug and supporting the back of his head as it rests on his chest.

 

He feels Thor tremble, shoulders shaking as the invitation to be vulnerable with him is met with an avalanche of emotion.

 

Thor isn’t able to say anything for a while, but Quill doesn’t push him to. He’s just gentle and patient with the thunder god. Lord knows he must need it.

 

Peter understands that now; having had the time to realise it and also the evidence to see just how much Thor has been hurting. He’s no different to himself when he was just a little boy, plucked from his planet after losing his mother and thrown into stakes he couldn’t possibly prepare for.

 

Granted, Thor came with them of his own volition, but it is still a big change for him, and despite Quill’s attempts at extorting the weight of his own grief, he has always believed that Thor has lost the most out of anyone.

 

Now is the time to appreciate that.

 

“I am sorry, Quill,” Thor apologises, making sure to get his name right this time.

 

He pulls back, wiping his nose on his wrist and whimpering at the state of the other man’s t-shirt when he sees he’s gotten snot and tears all over him.

 

Quill instinctively chuckles by way of reassuring him, keeping a hand on his back.

 

“Nah, don’t worry about that. It’ll wash. Here, big guy,” he soothes, offering him a tattered kerchief out of one of his belt loops. “Better just to let it out, hey?”

 

Thor apologises again when he blows his nose loudly, but he is touched by Peter’s sudden softness with him. For the front he puts up around his crew, he’s actually a very comforting person to be around.

 

“I—I am sorry for being a hindrance to you. I am sorry I... get in your way and if I have ever made you feel disrespected on your ship,” the thunder god says in a flurry of stuttering breaths. “I—it is strange for me l-letting go of leadership... even that which I do not want,” he hiccups.

 

Quill moves the hand on his back slowly to comfort him. Any hostility or resentment he had felt for Thor begins to dissipate.

 

He understands now that Thor was never trying to disrespect him or usurp him, he’s just frightened.

 

Stepping down from a role he has fulfilled for hundreds of years in order to take a leap of faith for the sake of personal growth is an enormously brave thing to do, and Thor must feel as if he has next to no control over his life right now. Of course he’d be looking to regain some authority if only to make himself feel visible.

 

Quill continues to gently rub his broad back and soothe the sniffling demi-god.

 

“I understand, big guy,” he reassures. “But I won’t let anything happen to you out here. I promise. You’re under my protection.”

 

Thor blinks away his tears, surprised by that declaration.

 

“Y-you’ve changed your tune rather,” he points out.

 

Quill is silent for a moment, being genuinely thoughtful before he speaks.

 

“... Gamora... told me what you said to her. That I... keep taking your advances the wrong way and that I’m... being oversensitive. Which I _am_ ,” he agrees, “I _know_ that. I just don’t like being outmatched, y’know? They all like you and respect you… ‘cuz you got that... pirate angel thing going on or whatever.”

 

“Hah... I fear... not so much anymore,” Thor dejectedly declines with a hand on his belly.

 

Quill scoffs.

 

“Oh yeah that’s right! What, you think ‘cuz you’re a hairy fat guy now that makes you any less of a freakin’ badass demi-god or whatever?”

 

Thor understands that’s sarcasm, but unlike the brand he’s come to associate with Tony Stark, Quill’s words don’t actually hurt his feelings, rather they make him feel good.

 

“Look man, you’re intimidating! Alright! It’s a lot to measure up to and, to be _honest_ , I don’t think I _can_!” Quill admits.

 

“Oh no! No, no, no,” Thor tries to console, taking that sweet, placating tone. “You do! Of course you d—”

 

Peter bats his hand away as he tries to put one on the back of his neck in a show of solidarity.

 

“This isn’t about me, anyway,” he diverts. “I’m insecure, we know that, I’ve done a terrible job of hiding it and...”

 

He lowers his shoulders as he stops ranting, uncoiling himself to be less like a primed cobra. He’s the only one winding himself up here, and he wants to mean his apology.

 

“I’m sorry, alright?”

 

He meets Thor’s gaze then, and gently takes the hand he’d just rejected.

 

“I’m sorry that I’ve been abrasive and hostile. You’ve been trying your best to make things amicable between us and I’ve resisted it at every turn... I didn’t think about how that would make you feel; trying to find your place in a new group of friends—in an environment you’re not familiar with... it’s like being the new kid in school, and all I’ve done is make you feel like you’re not wanted.”

 

Thor nods, tears welling in his eyes again. Quill hit the nail on the head there, and he can’t deny that it’s hurt him a lot being spurned by the guy he wanted to win over the most.

 

“I know you must be homesick, you’re outta’ your comfort zone and on top of all that you caught feelings for your captain,” Quill teases with a light-hearted smile.

 

“Yes,” Thor nods again, balling his fists into his eyes as he tries to suppress a sob. “I-I’ve embarrassed myself,” he whimpers. “I did not want to be a burden, I thought I could be of service but instead I have just disrupted your way of doing things and made a complete fool of myself in the process…”

 

Quill embraces him once more, tutting softly as he assures Thor that none of that is true.

 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, big guy. You’ve had a tough time,” he reminds, denying himself the opportunity to make this a laughable moment by cracking jokes, and just respecting Thor’s feelings seriously.

 

“Quill is right. Though you have revealed yourself to be a buffoon many times, you are still a handsome and manly man.”

 

Quill turns slowly to glare over his shoulder at Drax, who is perched in a shadowy corner of the hull eating chips.

 

“ _Dude_!” he admonishes, “stop doing that to people when they’re trying to have a tender moment!”

 

“Sorry,” Drax apologises, not sounding all that sorry about it as he takes another potato chip from the bag.

 

“Did you know he was there?!” Quill asks Thor.

 

“N-no,” the thunder god declines with a sniffle as he dries his eyes.

 

“I have literally been watching the two of you this whole time—literally since Quill said, ‘look man, you are intimidating,’” Drax divulges.

 

Quill winces, dumbfounded by the lack of privacy on this ship.

 

“Then why are you still sat there, man?! Get outta’ here already!” he huffs.

 

Thor gives a brief smile and a half-hearted wave in return of Drax’s farewell gesture as the dogmatic moron lumbers toward the ladder with a grunt.

 

“Unbelievable,” the star lord exasperates.

 

“Quill,” Thor says softly, regaining the other man’s attention, “I thank you for coming to tell me these things. I hope that we can be friends as well as teammates.”

 

Quill nods.

 

“Of course, man,” he promises, patting Thor on the shoulder before getting up and leaving him to get some rest.

 

He stops just shy of exiting though, and turns on his heel with a suggestive frown.

 

“You uh... didn’t wanna’ do anything about those feelings for your captain...?”

 

 

 

Thor grunts, hands raised as Peter slams him against the wall within seconds of them entering his quarters.

 

The thunder god is breathless just from kissing. Peter is experienced. Far more than he, he suspects, and on top of all that the sudden onslaught of affection has him stunned into complete complacency.

 

So much so, that his response to Quill’s next suggestion is blindly obedient.

 

“You gunna’ get on your knees for your captain, you little bitch?”

 

Thor groans and nods and sinks to the floor immediately, fumbling with Quill’s belt.

 

“Shit, wait, wait, wait,” Quill interjects, cringing at himself. “That is absolutely _not_ the tone I meant to strike,” he apologises, guiding Thor back to his feet. “C’mere, go lay down on the bed, big guy. Lemme’ take care of you.”

 

He can’t deny he’s had fantasies of saying things like that to Thor; bossing him around and putting him in his place, but he doesn’t want that now. Least of all in this situation.

 

Thor’s feelings for Quill are completely earnest, and Quill intends to return them the way the gentle giant deserves.

 

He saunters over to his stereo and slips a cassette labelled ‘Lovin’ Mix Vol. 1’ in, freeing a tinny flow of 80s tunes.

 

Thor chuckles, watching amusedly as Quill dances over to the bed while passionately mouthing lyrics to him as he unbuckles his belt.

 

“Y’know what this is, big fella’?” he asks mid-chorus, stepping out of his pants and making like he’s about to fall on top of Thor but stopping himself with a push-up; arrogant as he mantles him.

 

“No,” the thunder god laughs with a shake of his head, enchanted by the upbeat melody as he helps Peter take off his shirt next.

 

“This is baby-making music,” Quill enlightens, tossing his last item of clothing aside and leaning down to kiss Thor’s neck.

 

The thunder god gasps softly, his skin prickling at the tone of Quill’s voice and the caress of his rough palm against his belly as he snakes a hand up under his sweater.

 

His cock swells, visibly tenting the loose-fitting fabric of his sweatpants, and he knows Quill can feel it as he positions himself between his legs.

 

“Ah, wait,” Thor protests as he is about to undress him. “Y—you will not laugh at me, will you?” he frets.

 

Peter frowns a little, the tiniest of disbelieving smirks on his lips as he shakes his head.

 

“You won’t be… you won’t be repulsed by my body, will you?”

 

“What?! Of course not,” Peter replies firmly, sounding offended by the notion, “man, of _course_ not!” he affirms.

 

Thor nods, his eyes welling a little. He hadn’t realised until being naked for another person just how unsure of himself he’d become.

 

“I—I’ll hold you to it,” he sniffles, trying on a weak smile as he gathers himself.

 

“Hey, you won’t hear one negative word from me,” Peter soothes, “like I’m in a position to comment on your body, right?” he heartens as he opens his arms and confidently exposes his own tubby figure.

 

Thor grins with relief, putting both hands on Peter’s broad, hairy chest.

 

“But, you look good,” the blond compliments.

 

“Ditto,” Quill murmurs, successfully undressing the thunder god this time as he litters kisses everywhere he gets the chance. “All this,” he purrs, eyes closed as he inhales Thor’s natural scent when he sinks his head between his legs. “It’s beautiful,” he finishes, kissing Thor’s inner thigh as he lifts one onto his shoulder.

 

Thor groans, unable to see Quill past his own big belly, but his lips on his skin feel divine. It’s an intimacy Thor hasn’t known for a long time, and it’s a powerful feeling to be appreciated the way he is now; maybe not quite a king or a god or a strapping warrior anymore, but undeniably a good man worthy of love.

 

Thor can’t help palming himself through his underwear, already desperate to sate his aching cock.

 

Quill stops worshipping the stretch-marks near the meeting of thighs and helps him, rolling his briefs down and throwing them over his shoulder where they land strewn across the stereo.

 

Seeing Thor’s cock for the first time, Quill takes a moment to admire him. He’s big and bearing a slight leftish curve, but he’s more girth than he is length, which surprises him somewhat.

 

His balls are heavy and low hanging like a pair of golden rambutans; hairy like his ass and _ripe_ with unspent semen.

 

Quill gives an appreciative click of his tongue.

 

“Hey, can you reach that drawer over there?” he asks.

 

Thor strains a little, causing his big belly to jiggle as he shuffles up the bed further, but he successfully retrieves the more obvious item Quill was surely after.

 

“No condoms left?” the star lord frowns, taking only the bottle of lube with that faint, boyish smirk never leaving his lips for anything.

 

“Ah, yes but... there is no need for you to use that with me,” Thor assures.

 

“Tsh, yeah right. Like I’m gunna’ bust a nut in the god of thunder without a rubber on,” Peter scoffs.

 

“Hah,” Thor laughs along gingerly, “I am being serious, though,” he gently insists. “I do not mind... I like it.”

 

Quill maintains that smirk, but there’s such soft declination in his eyes as he slowly shakes his head.

 

“Nah, I’m not gunna’ do that to you, big fella’. C’mon, pass me one,” he requests a second time.

 

Thor obeys, blinking away a faint mistiness in his eyes as Quill goes down on him again.

 

It was such a simple gesture, but that adamant show of respect and consideration for his safety really touched him quite unexpectedly.

 

Tenderness has perhaps become a little too foreign to the good-natured demi-god.

 

He can’t see for his mighty gut, but he hears Quill pop the cap on the lube, and he is kind enough to warn him before touching, giving Thor the chance to relax.

 

He runs his rim for a little while with the tip of his middle finger before sliding in. Thor is tight but he can tell he won’t be long for opening up, and the thunder god fails to stifle a whimper as one of his hands reaches for the sheets to grip and the other goes to his cock.

 

It takes Quill no time to find his prostate, and Thor is soon mewling and moaning helplessly as he circles the little bulb inside him.

 

Peter is slow and gentle at first, letting Thor reach the point of feeling comfortable with one intrusion before working him up to three fingers, but he can already tell Thor doesn’t need that much.

 

The thunder god gives a sedate moan; cheeks flushed pink as he grips the back of a thigh with his free hand; fingers dragging white pleats along the fat flesh as he struggles to have patience.

 

“Heh, I think that about does it,” Quill concludes, retracting four fingers now before tearing open the sachet with his teeth and rolling the condom on,  giving himself a quick lube up. “You ready?” he makes sure.

 

“Y-yes,” Thor pants, still working his cock; sweat already trickling down his temples and eyes closed in concentration.

 

Quill takes over holding the backs of his thighs, relieving Thor of that task as he pulls him further down the bed to meet him and teases the entry of his cock by rubbing the length of it back and forth between his buttocks.

 

“Oh... please... please do not tease me,” Thor gasps, breath hitching with each jerk of his cock. He sounds lilting and tormented like a chaste young maiden in some period drama.

 

“Whatever you say, _your majesty_ ,” Quill torments a little further, smug as he lifts Thor’s legs onto his shoulders and settles his cockhead in the slight divot of the thunder god’s asshole before pushing into him.

 

Thor heaves softly as he accepts the intrusion, pushing out from the inside so that each ridge in his canal allows Quill to enter him an inch further.

 

“Can you take it?” Quill asks.

 

“Yes I—please—do not withhold!” Thor huffs.

 

Quill watches Thor carefully as he embeds his cock in him up to the hilt, but the thunder god isn’t showing any sign of discomfort yet.

 

“You feel that?” the star lord asks, giving a slight roll of his hips.

 

Thor grunts, mouth gaping as Quill catches his prostate. His cock sways with a surge of arousal shooting to the tip, and a bout of precum bubbles up and trickles over his head.

 

“Alright, big fella’,” Quill smirks, taking that as answer enough.

 

He begins to move, focusing at first on getting Thor’s prostate with every thrust. There’s need to add more lube after a little while, but the snugness of Thor’s asshole lessens fairly quick, and soon Quill gets a powerful rhythm that has the god of thunder moaning out loud.

 

“Quill!” Thor gasps, “p-please, y-you must allow me to return the favour!” he implores, his body shunting back and forth as Quill rocks him to the music.

 

“You can... pay for pizza after this,” Peter grunts, hips clapping against Thor’s fat ass as his fingers dimple his plush waist with their grip.

 

“Ah—ah—oh!” Thor moans helplessly, each exclamation being fucked out of his lungs with a charged thrust.

 

“Wait a minute,” Peter huffs, snapping sweat off his brow as he adjusts his position and takes Thor’s ankles off his shoulders before getting onto the bed with him.

 

He stays inside, but nudges him up so that he has room to kneel, securing Thor’s legs round his hips now and just joining in lazily jerking him off for a few moments while he catches his breath.

 

“God damn, you don’t quit easy do ya’?” he puffs.

 

“Nor do you,” the thunder god replies, licking his lips to whet his dry pallet and swallowing thickly. He gives a low heave as he too fights for air, letting Quill’s hand join his own and embolden the grasp on his cock as they both give him a few slow tugs.

 

“Alright big guy,” the star lord declares, reaffirming his grip on Thor’s huge thighs and pushing them apart up to his shoulders as he picks up and rolls into him.

 

Thor lets out a shocked cry, stilling for a moment with his mouth agape as he cranes his head forward, panting.

 

Their bellies press together when he reaches the hilt again, and Thor loves the feeling, but nowhere near as much as the feeling of having Quill’s cock rubbing against the back of his belly button.

 

Peter meets him, letting their foreheads touch as he offers a gentle hush.

 

“Y’alright?” he tests.

 

“D-deep... th-that’s deep,” Thor says tremulously, his cock visibly throbbing with pleasure as pulse after pulse of arousal courses to the tip and leaks out in pearly beads.

 

“Alright baby, I got’cha,” Quill purrs. That southern twang that Thor couldn’t possibly identify as being such does formidable things to him regardless, and he groans as Peter’s cockhead nudges the back of his naval. “Let’s take it nice and slow,” he coos.

 

The next song sets the rhythm for them. Thor can see how Peter gets into it, and he just watches him; captivated as the man above him, perspiration on his brow and chest flushed, makes love to him amongst the stars like he is the only person he has ever loved.

 

Thor grips the back of Quill’s neck to keep their foreheads together, huffing and groaning as the younger man’s thrusts tumble like waves into him.

 

Quill is a master of control. He pulls almost all the way out, slow enough to drag sounds out of Thor that are _completely_ undignified as he trembles and trills at the pleasure of having something slowly leave his ass before sinking right back in just as slowly.

 

Their heavy, laboured breaths fall under the sound of the soulful music.

 

“Easy, big fella’,” Quill hushes, picking up the pace and rutting into him without leaving his body an inch this time.

 

Thor cries a gruff, ecstasy-fuelled growl as Quill begins catching his prostate over and over. The poor thunder god is doing his best to last, gripping his testicles to stop himself from cumming too soon.

 

“Ah! I can’t,” he wails, “I—I’m going to—I’m going to—”

 

“Hey, alright big guy,” Quill hushes him again comfortingly, “let ‘em go, you’re alright,” he reassures.

 

Thor whimpers and does as he’s told, gripping onto Quill’s shoulders with both hands instead as the star lord holds him and pushes the thunder god to climax.

 

He cums with a mighty, broken cry like the relief is so insurmountable that he is almost moved to tears, and Peter, despite doing an incredible job of implying he wasn’t close at all, blinks hard and groans low as he stutters inside the former king of Asgard, meeting the tail end of his orgasm.

 

Quill pulls out then, allowing Thor to put his legs down before he collapses on top of his big belly where they begin to pant out of time like a pair of sled dogs.

 

Not wanting to restrict his breathing, Peter rolls off to the side, and to his surprise, Thor rolls into him seeking comfort.

 

Without reserve, Quill holds him, stroking his hair and gently kissing his forehead as the pair catch their breath.

 

Thor is lovely to hold, he realises. He’s dense; still muscular in places, but his middle is soft like the marshmallow filling of a s’more, and his big beard isn’t scratchy like it would appear, but fluffy instead.

 

“Hey,” Quill whispers when he finally sees fit to interrupt their little post-coital snuggle, “you hungry?”

 

Thor looks up at him, a little afraid that there’s going to be some kind of punchline about being greedy, but he sees nothing other than earnest in Peter’s kind eyes.

 

“Yes, famished,” he grins.

 

“I’m gunna’ clean up,” Quill announces, slipping out of the hug as he struts to the bathroom to remove the condom and wash his hands.

 

He returns moments later redressing himself as he goes. “Gunna’ go out and get us a pizza. Make yourself comfortable alright? Shower, whatever you need. Won’t be long,” he assures, leaning down to kiss Thor’s head as he’s shrugging his jacket on.

 

Thor smiles up at him contently, nodding as he watches Peter to the door, the smile never leaving his face.

 

His heart is so full and he is feeling wonderful about himself. Even as he catches a glimpse in the full length mirror opposite, he feels invited to look rather than to shy away from his reflection.

 

He sits up and rubs his belly. There’s a severe overhang; stretch-marks all around his waist and hips, leading down to his buttocks.

 

His fat cock sits neatly between his big thighs as they touch; not even an inch dividing them. They’re stretch-marked too, and covered in cellulite.

 

When Thor had first seen himself like this sober, he had cried. Sexual pursuits had never been something of great interest to him, but like all beings, the thunder god was not exempt from simply wanting to be loved.

 

He didn’t dare ask for it anymore though; barely even dreamed of it. Who would want him now? His teammates back on Earth had made it quite clear that he was a joke and no longer worthy of their respect.

 

But not Quill. When Thor joined them he was an easy target, and given their rivalry he had prepared himself to receive many more jibes about his appearance, but Quill never once resorted to that.

 

And now, it appears that Quill has been the first person to break the trend altogether.

 

He made love to Thor with no agenda and no reserve. Made him feel valued as a man and still worthy of love in spite of how his exterior has changed.

 

He’s given Thor some of his confidence back, and not to mention a fucking amazing orgasm to go with it.

 

The thunder god smiles at himself, touching his belly again appreciatively before getting up to make the bed and take a quick shower.

 

Quill returns to find him in just his underwear and a cardigan examining his Zune.

 

“Y’like that?” he smirks, setting the box down and taking off his boots and jacket.

 

“It’s marvellous,” Thor grins. “I do not know its purpose though.”

 

Quill laughs, bringing the gigantic pizza box back to bed with him.

 

“It plays music, just like that thing,” he explains, gesturing to the stereo before opening the lid and inviting Thor to take the first slice.

 

It’s the worst kind of pizza; forty percent dough, sixty percent cheese. It’s gooey and stringy with absolutely no nutritional value, and it’s absolutely delicious.

 

Thor makes a satisfied sound in his chest as he sinks his teeth into an inch thick layer of mozzarella, and for a moment Quill forgets about explaining how MP3 players work and just watches the titanic man eat.

 

“That good, big guy?” he teases, taking a slice for himself.

 

“It’s delicious,” Thor moans, “what do I owe you?”

 

Peter chuckles. “That was a joke y’know? I know you don’t have any money, man, c’mon! Like I’d make you pay for it,” he scoffs, taking a bite.

 

He’s drawn to look at Thor when he hears a sniffle and notices the thunder god is balancing a slice in one hand while using the other hand to dab his nose.

 

“Oh, hey, Thor?” he sympathises.

 

“I—I’m fine,” the thunder god assures, drying his eyes quickly. “I’m just... s-so emotional these days,” he laughs despite himself.

 

Quill isn’t sold on it. He can hear the mocking in Thor’s voice aimed at himself, and places a gentle hand on the other man’s back.

 

“Listen man, if you’re that desperate to pay me back, I’ll let’cha blow me next time, alright?”

 

Thor looks him in the eye to see if he’s being serious, but his expression is so sincere that it’s insincere, and they both burst out laughing.

 

“Seriously, dude... it’s on me, so don’t worry about it okay?”

 

Thor nods, accepting Quill’s generosity. It’s a heck of a one-eighty, but Thor always knew this capacity for kindness was within the star lord. He’s just very moved that he is the one receiving it.

 

Quill encourages Thor to have some more pizza then, and gradually they retreat under the covers as they eat and chat and joke with one another.

 

They made a valiant effort but the pair are defeated eventually; sleepy and full as they lay together amongst a littering of napkins in the shared bed.

 

Despite his age, Thor hasn’t had an awful lot of experience. In his glory days as a youth he was far more engaged with hunting and sparring, and in the last five years he has been preoccupied with grief.

 

It’s been a long time for him, but a little love might really have been all he was needing, and Peter has proven himself to be a very generous and tender lover indeed.

 

Sex with the star lord alone was mind-blowing, but topped off with a twenty-four-inch-after-sex-pizza in bed? That was the best night Thor has had in centuries.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [☆](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYHxC__RWjg)


	2. Thorbruce/Gammahammer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realising that Thor is in no way ready to rejoin the Avengers in his current mental state, Bruce decides to stay with him the night in New Asgard, but during that time he discovers something else about how much has changed with the God of Thunder~

Seeing Thor for the first time in five years, Bruce is already sprouting a strong inclination that the God of Thunder is not going to come back with them.

 

Rocket ceaselessly badgers him into accepting, but after seeing his response to hearing the name Thanos, the good doctor knows that Thor is in need of help perhaps more than the rest of the universe right now.

 

They should have come to see him a long time ago. He must feel so forgotten. 

 

“Why don’t you stay?” Thor suggests, taking a lighter tone. “Yes, stay for a while! Drink, eat, forget your worries!”

 

“Forget our worries? What, like you?” Rocket revolts, “look where that’s got ya’, tubby!”

 

“Hey,” Bruce admonishes, waving a dissuasive hand at the feral guardian. “That sounds like a blast, Thor. Count me in.”

 

The Thunder God cheers riotously and helps himself to another beer.

 

“What the hell are you thinking?!” Rocket hisses.

 

“Hey, Listen,” Bruce says aside in a lowered voice, crouching to put a very tentative hand on Rocket’s shoulder, “Thor’s gunna’ need a lot of help before he can even think about helping anyone else. I’m gunna’ stay. We’ve got time so... go back to the others, keep working. I’ll return tomorrow with Thor if I can.”

 

Rocket huffs, displeased with the plan but unable to deny that Thor is far from fighting fit. 

 

“Alright, whatever, I’ll catch ya’ later,” he grumbles, giving a lazy lift of his hand in farewell.

 

“You’re not staying too, Rabbit?” Thor notes.

 

“Nope. I got better things to do, fatso.”

 

Bruce gives Thor a sympathetic look, who doesn’t seem all that hurt by the jibe, but Bruce hates to hear it directed at him nonetheless.

 

“Well, nothing like a one to one catch-up between old friends, eh?” the Thunder God grins, raising his bottle as a toast. 

 

The good doctor is quite content just to be in observation of Thor and his friends. 

 

He drinks and laughs and eats with them just as Thor had invited him to, but he cannot fail to notice the way his smile never quite reaches his eyes and his laugh is somewhat forced.

 

Thor seems keen to keep the merriment going for as long as possible, but even Korg runs out of steam eventually, and announces that he’s heading home. 

 

That’s when things turn bitter.

 

“Fine!” Thor drunkenly slurs, swaying as he loosely grips his nth empty bottle of beer. “I can have a party all by myself!”

 

“Night, Thor! Night, Banner!” Korg waves, paying no mind to Thor’s bratty behaviour. 

 

That implies to Bruce that this weepy drunk version of Thor makes frequent appearances. 

 

Three beers he was energetic. Five beers he was loud and joyful and silly. Eight beers, a new persona started to emerge; nostalgic, lonely, overly sensitive and childish. 

 

“C’mon, big guy, let’s get you to bed,” Bruce croons.

 

He first notices it when he puts a hand on Thor’s shirtless back to try and guide him. 

 

The Thunder God bristles like he’s never been touched. Not like the hug he’d instigated earlier where it was a brief and scrambled encounter; this is tenderness, and Thor seems to find it foreign. 

 

“Y-yes, I suppose... I suppose it is that time,” he grumbles in resignation. 

 

Bruce nods and removes his hand as he carefully follows behind Thor to make sure he doesn’t topple backward down the stairs. 

 

He sways a little but makes it safely to the landing, then points vaguely at the room he plans to enter. 

 

“You’re not gunna’ brush your teeth?” Bruce asks, pointing in the other direction to the bathroom. 

 

“What for?” Thor grumbles.

 

Bruce follows him into his bedroom. It’s dingy and has a distinct scent of general mustiness. 

 

Thor’s sheets don’t look like they have been washed in months, either; stained with indistinguishable substances... most likely condiments by the looks of it. He’s been eating in bed.

 

More than anything though it’s the overwhelming aura of sadness that really gets to Bruce. 

 

Thor must have spent a lot of time pent up in here crying and brooding.

 

There’s a dartboard that’s hung lopsided, the wall around it littered with tiny holes from missed shots.

 

The curtain rail is also hanging askew but the windows themselves are blacked out with newspaper.

 

There are stray socks and dirty laundry, empty wrappers, pizza boxes and any number of beer cans trashing the floor.

 

Then Bruce is drawn to the shattered glass and the stain on the wall where a bottle has obviously been thrown in frustration or anguish, and propped right up next to it is Stormbreaker. 

 

“Nah, nu-uh,” Bruce decides. “C’mon big guy, you need a shower and to brush your teeth.”

 

Thor squints, confused when Bruce shoos him away from the bed so he can strip the sheets. 

 

“No, stop, I like it that way,” the drunken Asgardian protests dazedly.

 

“Thor, go and get showered,” Bruce says again.  

 

The Thunder God snorts obnoxiously, eyes blinking at separate times as he prepares to put up an argument like a contraire child. 

 

“No, you’ll have to make me!” he asserts, folding his arms over his big belly.

 

“Thor,” Bruce appeals, turning to him and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

 

Thor stiffens again, and when Bruce rubs his thumb against his skin he revolts.

 

“Y-yes, alright,” he concedes anxiously, scurrying to the bathroom across the hall and locking the door behind him.

 

Bruce sighs.

 

Thor is like a little boy, trying his hardest to be brave and grown up even though he’s never felt more lost or insecure. 

 

The good doctor doesn’t dare make an attempt to sort through the clothes and socks and dirty underwear, but he gathers them off the floor and puts them in a basket out of the way. As far as he’s concerned it’s _all_ dirty laundry. 

 

He sources a bin liner next and sifts all the trash into it, wipes down the wall and surfaces, fixes the curtain rail and strips the paper off the window to open it up and let in some fresh air.

 

By the time the sheets are in the dryer the place looks decent. It’s not going to feature in Ideal Home of course, but for a quick thirty minute tidy up it’ll do. 

 

Finally getting a chance to breathe, Bruce notices then that the shower hasn’t been running.

 

“Thor?” he calls as he knocks on the door.

 

He hears spluttering and the sound of someone who is obviously trying to get quickly to their feet.

 

“Y-yes I’m washing my teeth—b-brushing my teeth!” Thor replies hastily.

 

“Thor, can you let me in?”

 

“Yes of course,” the Thunder God squeaks in that falsely-assuring tone. “Just brushing my teeth,” he insists.

 

“Thor,” Bruce tries again, sounding almost disappointed. 

 

There’s silence then. No rushed rebuttal about how he’s doing what was asked of him, and soon the door unlocks.

 

Bruce inches in and sees Thor in a tattered cardigan, beer bottle in hand.

 

“What are you going, Thor?”

 

“Oh me? N-nothing,” he tries to play off, examining his cardigan like there’s something incredibly interesting about the sleeves. 

 

Bruce sighs again and leans over to put the plug in the bath as he starts to run the water.

 

“Come on,” he utters tirelessly, carefully undressing Thor.

 

“No I—I’ll bathe in this,” he states.

 

“Thor, stop it now. I’m losing my patience,” the good doctor warns. His tolerance is steadfast, but he’s starting to grow tired.

 

Thor’s bottom lip trembles as he slips off the cardie, clearly not so drunk that he can’t feel guilt for having pushed his loving friend to the point of berating him.

 

Bruce turns off the tap and tests the water when the tub is near full.

 

“You want some help?” he asks, his tone much more generous now.

 

“No thank you I... I can manage myself,” Thor assures, allowing Bruce to get out the door first before he undresses further. 

 

Bruce takes a moment then, pinching the bridge of his nose as he goes and sits on the bed. 

 

He hears the dryer beep downstairs—a welcomed distraction in fact—and heads down, taking his time folding a few things before carrying the basket back up and making the bed.

 

“Banner?” Thor calls just as he’s finishing that task.

 

“I’m here, y’alright?” 

 

“I don’t have a towel,” the Thunder God informs.

 

Bruce smiles to himself softly. “Just a minute,” he answers, fetching a clean one that is still warm and fresh out of the laundry. “Okay if I come in?” he asks, already letting himself in but keeping his eyes closed just in case. 

 

“I am decent,” Thor assures, still sat in the bath.

 

Bruce holds the towel up for him then, but as Thor is stepping out of the tub he wobbles and falls straight into the other man’s arms. 

 

“Woah, hey... you’re alright I got’cha,” the good doctor smiles warmly, wrapping Thor up promptly. 

 

They both laugh a little, but Thor is quick to free himself from the embrace.

 

“Hey, your hair’s wet, why not sit down on the bed and lemme’ dry it for you?” Bruce suggests. 

 

Thor keeps his lips pressed together but nods, and so Bruce follows him back into his room.

 

“Ah... it’s tidy,” he notes, looking around in astonishment.

 

“It’s an improvement that’s for sure,” Bruce chuckles as he finds the hairdryer and plugs it in.

 

Thor flinches at first, feeling Bruce’s hand on his head, but the noise is great cover for the tiny moan he lets escape when the gentle giant begins massaging his scalp and warm air gusts over his shoulders.

 

He could be in heaven right now, just by the warmth and the tenderness of his surroundings; clean sheets, fresh air blowing in and some much needed TLC. It’s a little overwhelming in fact. 

 

“There,” Bruce concludes, setting the hairdryer down and giving Thor’s fluffy tresses a quick rake through with one hand.

 

Thor stifles a mewl, his whole body curling like a cat does having its back stroked.

 

Bruce seems not to have heard, or so Thor thinks.

 

“Alright pal, let’s get you into bed. Here,” the good doctor says, handing him a pair of fresh pyjama pants. They’re still a little warm from being in the wash. 

 

Thor nods, and Bruce takes his turn to disappear to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

 

The God of Thunder is already _in_ bed when the other man returns, but he’s curled up with his back to him.

 

“I guess were sharin’ tonight, huh?” Bruce chuckles as he carefully gets in.

 

Thor shuffles as far to the edge as possible in the hopes of giving him more room, but Bruce is already keen to his state.

 

He had noticed the way he gripped his towel with white knuckles when he was touching his hair.

 

He’d seen the blush and the way his skin got goose bumps just from being touched.

 

And he’s noticed the chub tenting his pants just now.

 

Thor is touch-starved, and he’s longing for physical contact. He’s just too afraid to ask in the fear of it being an unrequited situation. 

 

“Hey,” Bruce coos, reaching over to tuck a hand around Thor’s belly as he pulls him back across the bed to be against his body.

 

The Thunder God gasps and winces, but he doesn’t protest, and Bruce is sure now.

 

It’s a simple case of one of them being bold enough to instigate something, and he feels it’s only fair he take that role tonight. 

 

“Want me to play with your hair?” Bruce whispers, breath warm on the back of Thor’s neck. “That must’a felt so good, huh?” he grins, already very gently gathering back a few wispy strands.

 

“Yes,” Thor pants wantonly, nodding his head as his eyelids flutter. 

 

It’s not long before he’s completely lost to the sensation of being touched. Without even realising, his hand is on Bruce’s thigh, gripping his pant leg and forcing his body to be flush against his own.

 

There’s nothing even remotely sexual about the nature of Bruce’s touch, either, it’s just so rare to receive any kind of tenderness.

 

It occurs to Thor then that Bruce isn’t actually aware of what he’s doing to him; or the effect his well-meaning kindness has on him.

 

He knows Bruce isn’t the sexual type, and he fears that he is taking advantage.

 

“Please, Banner,” Thor squeaks. “This… it’s arousing me—please stop I—I do not wish to offend you like this!”

 

“Thor,” Bruce hushes, “it’s okay—” 

 

“Please I—I’m—”

 

“I know. I know and it’s okay. It’s not offensive. You’re sensitive, I get that. It’s been a long time since anybody’s touched you... and that’s not right.”

 

Thor whimpers, his breath catching as tears start to run down his cheeks.

 

“Please, Banner...”

 

“You deserve to be loved just like anybody else, Thor. You’ll always be worthy of that. Let me take care of you. It doesn’t matter what happens.”

 

He hears Thor’s voice break as he starts to sob, shaking his head.

 

“N-no one w-wants me around! No one—n-no one ever h-holds me like this!” he wails. “I’m alone! I’m all alone!” 

 

“That’s not true, big guy. I’m holding you, aren’t I?” Bruce soothes. “You’re not alone, Thor.”

 

He keeps his voice low, close to Thor’s ear as he hushes him and continues to play with his hair, just every so often tracing a finger down the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades to draw patterns on his prickled skin. 

 

Thor is trembling in his arms; overstimulated in every sense of the word, but he needs this release. 

 

“Ah! Banner! Please I—I’m going to—I’m going to—”

 

Bruce can tell _exactly_ what he’s going to do. Thor is gripping his pant leg with one hand and the sheets in his other hand, squirming and mewling like a newborn kitten.

 

“That’s alright, big fella’, you go ahead. I’ve got you,” Bruce reassures. 

 

The Thunder God cries, flailing as he struggles between the urge to palm his weeping cock and the good sense to leave it alone knowing just how sensitive it will be.

 

“G’ah! Banner! Banner!” he gasps, heaving a little before he cums untouched and shoots his load down the inside of his leg.

 

He goes through a full body spasm, panting pleading little sounds with no regard for how helpless and undignified they are.

 

Bruce stops touching for a moment; his big body outlining the shape of Thor to let him know he is still here, but he allows the sensitive Thunder God to come down steadily before even thinking of putting his hands back on him. 

 

“That’s it... you’re okay,” Bruce maintains, knowing he can still reassure him with his voice.

 

Thor’s grip on his thigh remains, but the desperation of it eases up when his breathing starts to even out. 

 

To Bruce’s surprise, Thor seeks touch on his own, reaching back for his hand and bringing it to rest on his belly. 

 

“Hey,” Bruce croons, rubbing gently with his huge palm. “You feel better?”

 

He sees Thor nod.

 

“Wanna’ get cleaned up?” he asks. 

 

Thor shakes his head this time and turns over in the other man’s arms to face him. 

 

He is quiet as he rests his cheek against Bruce’s chest and listens to the steady, soothing heartbeat beneath his ear, and Bruce happily holds him for a little while.

 

Until Thor’s fingers curl into the sides of his sweatshirt and the Thunder God starts sniffling again.

 

Bruce is alarmed at first, but he reminds himself of what Thor is going through, and it’s easy to understand then.

 

He’s feeling a lot of things right now, and this is the first time in a very long time that he has been able to _express_ his pain to anyone, let alone experience a loving embrace. 

 

Bruce sees how his legs shift; how Thor is trying to make himself small and to hide the stain in his pants by tucking his flaccid cock between his thighs.

 

The good doctor says nothing; he just pulls the sheets up on Thor’s side and tucks him in.

 

“Don’t leave me, Banner!” Thor begs, clinging harder as he begins to hiccup.

 

“Of course not,” Bruce reassures. “Hey, shhh-sh-sh-sh~”

 

“I don’t want to be alone! Please don’t leave me!”

 

“Hey,” Bruce sympathises. “Of course I won’t leave you. I won’t. You’re safe, Thor. I’m right here.”

 

Thor whimpers as Bruce gently strokes his hair back, being tender beyond belief even for a man his size. 

 

“I have missed you greatly,” Thor sniffles, calming down now that he is assured his friend will stay with him the night.

 

“I’ve missed you too, big fella’. I’m happy to see you again,” Bruce returns the sentiment. 

 

“I... I know why you have come, but I’m afraid you will leave me if I say I cannot join you.”

 

Bruce shakes his head.

 

He’s not disappointed. He’d seen it coming and truth be told, seeing the state of Thor is almost more jarring than the state of the universe right now.

 

The concept of what they’ve lost is almost inconceivable, but this right here; the suffering of someone he cares for deeply, is tangible and heartbreaking.

 

He is holding pain in his arms right this moment, and for now, Bruce doesn’t even want Thor to join them. He couldn’t bear the thought of forcing him to give so much of himself when he has so little.

 

They may have to manage without the God of Thunder... but that’s okay. Half the universe has been gone for five years, another five days isn’t going to make a difference to them, but it could change everything for Thor. 

 

“You don’t have to fight, pal. But maybe you can come back with me? Just to see everyone and to get you out of this place?” he encourages. 

 

Bruce has every intention of caring for Thor, but if he can do it while still working beside Scott then all the better. 

 

“Will they want me?” Thor murmurs. “Will they want to see me?”

 

“Of course they will,” Bruce avers, “they’d be happy to see you. We all want you around, Thor,” the good doctor confirms, bringing the Thunder God into his arms closer and stroking the back of his head as Thor nestles up to his chest. 

 

Thor smiles then, comfort washing over him as he starts to drift off.

 

“Hey...” Bruce then remembers. “Did you brush your teeth?”

 

Thor is quiet for a pregnant moment.

 

“... No.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably a little presumptuous of me to think thor has either a washing machine or a hairdyer... 🤔  
> anyway hope u enjoyed, comments make me very happy ♡


	3. Thornat/Blackthunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is back from his travels with the Guardians and he's eager to have some fun with Nat~  
> (Contains puppy play & pegging etc)

 

“Natasha!” Thor beams as his knock on the door is answered by the smiling redhead.

 

“Hey, big guy,” Nat returns his cheerful greeting, ushering him in for a hug.

 

Thor holds on a little longer than one normally might, but Nat doesn’t let go until he does, just stroking his hair gently as she lets him soak up all the physical contact he needs. 

 

He hasn’t seen her for a while. The last time, she wasn’t even conscious so he could say goodbye. But he’d sat by her bedside in the hospital for a few quiet moments, holding her hand and willing the universe to grant her a swift and painless recovery the day before his departure.

 

Since then he’d been in contact, of course. After receiving the news that Nat had woken up he’d called her every day in fact, telling her all about his adventures on the Benatar and wanting to know how she was doing. 

 

To finally get to see her in person again, though, fighting fit and with her usual smoky demeanour; Thor couldn’t be happier just to hold her in his arms. 

 

Natasha has been a good friend to him, and in more ways than the others are even aware. 

 

This particular arrangement had started sometime between Thor’s breakup with Jane, though surprisingly it wasn’t so much about seeking comfort, it wasn’t so much about seeking anything, in fact.

 

Natasha had just been there for him, and a harmless suggestion had prompted a harmless and earnest reply, and then, before either of them really cared to give it a name, they began this type of play together whenever it suited them.

 

The last time had been when Bruce brought Thor back from New Asgard. 

 

That was a terrible and emotional day for Thor, and Nat, who felt like she had no control over anything, needed it just as much.

 

Thor had been reserved and unsure of himself; not wanting to offend her with his unpresentable state, but Nat had assured him she thought he looked beautiful just like that, and perhaps that time it was purely about comfort, but they both felt better for it afterwards. 

 

So, with all that in mind, it only made sense to the two that for their reunion they should catch up while doing their favourite thing.

 

“You wanna’ get right into it?” Natasha smirks as Thor finally pulls out of the hug.

 

He nods eagerly at the proposal, his cheeks already a little ruddy.

 

“I hope you do not think me rude,” he begins, “I have missed you terribly, but I fear any conversation I could offer has already been shared, seeing as we talked only just last night.”

 

Nat seems to agree as she gestures to the bed.

 

This is the first time Thor has been in her new apartment. Actually, it’s the first time anyone has, given that she’s only just moved in, and what better way to christen her new mattress than by pounding the god of thunder into it?

 

“Did you bring anything?” Natasha asks, glancing over her shoulder at the beardy ball of fluff testing the give of the mattress as he sits on it.

 

“Ah, I am afraid not,” Thor apologises.

 

“That’s okay, I’ve got some,” Nat reassures, sauntering over to one of the items Thor _is_ familiar with in this new apartment; the toy box.

 

He visibly sits up, looking alert as Nat produces the thick leather collar and leash.

 

“Are you good? You ready?” she makes sure, giving Thor the opportunity to be briefed before they begin, but his fervent nod and goofy grin assure her that he knows the drill well enough at this point. “Okay, let’s get these off,” she smiles, helping the thunder god to undress.

 

Thor keeps glancing at the collar, every bit like an excitable puppy wanting to go out for a walk, but he doesn’t fidget or make it difficult for Nat to take his clothes off, knowing that their play doesn’t formally begin until _that_ is around his neck.

 

His gaze quickly returns to the sight between his legs when he feels a dampness growing at the front of his pants; already aroused at just the mere prospect of what’s to come.

 

“Oh honey, are you wagging your tail for me already?” Nat teases as she pulls his pants free of his ankles and sees Thor’s stout little cock begin to sway as it jumps to attention.

 

He wriggles his hips in agreement, earning a laugh from Natasha and grinning like a fool; pleased to have made her happy.

 

As much as this is about what Thor enjoys, it’s equally as enjoyable for Nat. After all, how many people can say they regularly walk the god of thunder around on a leash and have him beg and bark on their command?

 

“Okay, big guy, you ready?” Nat makes sure one more time. She receives another eager nod, and Thor sits up proudly as he awaits the feeling of that cool, thick leather closing around his throat; trembling a little when it finally makes contact with his skin.

 

A soft whimper escapes him when he hears the resounding click, letting him know it’s securely fastened, and the thunder god can’t help but to reach up and feel for himself how the strong band sits around his neck.

 

 “That alright? Not too tight?” Nat asks, giving him a loving scratch behind the ear.

 

Thor smiles and shakes his head this time.

 

“No… it is just right,” he confirms.”

 

“Safeword?”

 

“Ah… oh, Mjölnir!” Thor recalls.

 

Nat gives him a reserved smile and a nod. “Alright, good boy.”

 

She adds the finishing touch then — the thing that usually cements Thor firmly in his headspace for this — his little golden ears, modelled on that of a retriever and blending perfectly with his shaggy blond hair.

 

“Okay, sweetheart, hands and knees,” she instructs, getting onto the bed behind him with his tail in hand a bottle of lube in the other.

 

It’s the self‑warming kind, and Thor croons deep in his chest as he sinks onto his elbows like a dog preparing to catch a ball when Nat gently begins to run the rim of his little pink asshole with her middle finger.

 

In earlier days, Thor would often come to Nat’s room at the Avengers’ compound already with a plug in; ready for her to fuck him immediately, but since then he’s become very partial to letting her do this bit. She’s much gentler with him than he is with himself.

 

“Good boy~” Nat purrs, watching with a slight smirk at the way Thor accepts her finger by pushing out slightly. “What a good puppy~”

 

That warrants a whimper and a slight wiggle of his hips as Thor responds to the praise. He loves being told he’s a good boy.

 

He pushes into the pressure of two, then three, then _four_ fingers, doing his best to keep his noises non‑human, but struggling when Nat begins to pump his prostate.

 

“Your tail’s really wagging now, big guy,” she points out as she watches the way his cock bounces between his legs in accordance with each nudge under his bladder.

 

Thor groans, sweat already beading on his forehead as he rests his chin between his hands and gives over to the pleasure.

 

“Okay, honey… hold still for me now,” Nat coaches as she takes the plug and adds a generous amount of lube before holding it for a moment to Thor’s slightly more relaxed asshole. “Going in,” she tells him, rubbing the small of his back with her free hand to help him brace before she pushes the girthy stop inside him.

 

Thor pants, his cock starting to leak a little as the plug sits right under his prostate. It burns a bit; the stretch of it is definitely more than just four fingers could provide, but Nat knows that Thor likes it that way.

 

She clips the leash onto the silver ring of his collar then, letting him take a moment to wriggle his hips and decide if he’s comfortable, but only a moment later he’s obediently getting down off the bed and waiting patiently as Nat ties him to the end of it.

 

“You wait there now, big boy. I’m gonna’ get changed,” she informs, disappearing to the bathroom and leaving her loyal little lapdog outside to whimper and whine as he craves her return.

 

She reappears in a red and black negligee; her trademark colours, but it is Thor’s favourite one that she owns. It suits her splendidly, and given that it has been months since they last saw one another, it seems only fitting. _Very_ well‑fitting, in fact.

 

The negligee is beautiful, of course, but that isn’t the most intriguing part of her outfit.

 

Thor wiggles his hips again when he sees her head to the toy box, the tail attached to the plug inside him shimmying. He loves this game. It’s when Nat allows him to pick what sized strap he wants.

 

She stands facing him, reaching into the box and pulling out a pitifully small one to start with.

 

“This one?” she smirks, earning a growl‑turned‑whimper as Thor declines.

 

She laughs, endeared by his commitment to the role, but also how oddly becoming it is of him to behave this way. Not that there was ever any doubt, but pet‑play seems like it was made for Thor.

 

“This one?” she enthuses, taking an especially large — frankly too large — one out to offer him.

 

Thor whimpers and cowers this time, earning another laugh from Nat.

 

“Not that one then huh, pup? Okay… what about this one?” she tests, taking up the sturdy eight inch; pink and ribbed and, guaranteed after having been a  faithful favourite of Thor’s for the past few years, to give him all the pleasure he needs.

 

The thunder god — thunder dog — gives an excited yap and wags his tail… both his tails, this time.

 

“Alright, clever boy,” Nat coos, affixing the peg to the harness at her hips and going over to untie Thor.

 

She makes the gesture to sit with her hand then, and he does as he’s told, then she motions for him to beg, and immediately, he obeys.

 

“Good boy, so clever,” she praises him, seeing his thick little cock bob in his lap; precum already leaking down his inner‑thigh a bit.

 

Thor holds his position resolutely then as Nat takes the strap in hand and guides it to his lips.

 

His little pink tongue slips out from his fluffy beard and drags itself along the underside of the shaft, and Thor closes his eyes and huffs through his nose as he begins to blow it.

 

“Very nice, good boy~” Nat drawls, watching as his right hand starts to drop a little with the temptation to reach down and touch himself.

 

He’s already shot right up; fully erect just from the arousal of having a big cock in his mouth, but Nat can’t be too generous or her puppy will end up spoilt… not that he doesn’t deserve that of course.

 

“Can you take it?” she asks, earning a nod‑turned‑whimper as Thor tries to affirm to her without breaking character.

 

He braces himself when he feels her fist up a handful of his thick blond locks at the back of his head, and then she surges forward to the back of his throat for just a second before retracting.

 

Thor huffs a laboured breath through his nose, tears springing to the corners of his eyes. As appreciative as he is of Nat’s tenderness with him, he can’t help but to like a little bit of roughness mixed in.

 

She makes him deep‑throat the strap three more times then until he gags in a way that suggests that was dangerously close to triggering a full reflex.

 

“Good boy,” she reminds him as she finally withdraws, a long trail of spittle clinging to the head of the dildo as it leaves Thor’s glistening lips. “You were so good just now… are you ready for your reward, clever boy?”

 

Thor nods again, too cloudy with lust to remember that dogs don’t tend to nod confirmation of things.

 

Nat smiles and indulges him though. Her sweet pup has already worked very hard for her, and it’d be just as much her pleasure as his to see him being rewarded.

 

“Can you keep working that pretty mouth of yours for mama or are you ready for something else?” she asks, offering him the strap again as she lifts his chin and pushes it gently against his parted lips.

 

Thor murmurs a soft moan, his eyes opening briefly to look up at Natasha devotedly before he makes another soft sound and takes the strap into his mouth again.

 

“Good boy,” Nat smiles, stroking his head before leaning down a little to whisper, “and can you touch yourself for me, puppy?”

 

Immediately upon that request, Thor takes his chubby cock in hand and begins to shake it as he starts giving head like his life depends on it, occasionally rolling his foreskin back anytime he stalls to go slow on the strap and moans deep, growling sounds from his chest.

 

His other hand is steady at the base, working it like Nat can actually feel the sensation of receiving fellatio, and Thor is trying to milk that cock for all its worth.

 

She might not be able to feel it, but she can _definitely_ feel the satisfaction of watching Thor perform; devoted and worshipful as he tries to make his master proud.

 

“My good boy, you’re doing so well at that, aren’t you?” she purrs, her nails raking against his scalp and dragging a whimper of delight from Thor as he leans into it a little. “You’re being so good for me, Thor~”

 

His cheeks are pink with both exertion and bashfulness, but he soaks up the praise like a big fuzzy sponge.

 

He cries out feebly then when Nat pulls his head back by a fistful of hair to force him to breathe; and indeed big panting gasps escape his open mouth as he drools and tries to claim some air.

 

“That’s enough, sweetheart. Let’s have you up on the bed,” Natasha smiles, winding his leash around her fist and walking him over before telling him to jump up.

 

Thor’s big belly drags the blankets along with him as he makes a messy attempt at leaping from all fours, but Nat reserves her quiet laughter this time. He’s just so cute.

 

She reaches for the lube again once she is positioned behind the thunder god just like before, and makes up for what glide his spit alone will definitely lack.

 

“You did such a good job getting this all wet and ready for you, baby,” she encourages, tossing the bottle aside once she’s done. “Now hold still, clever boy.”

 

Thor pushes out again when he feels the pre-emptive tug, and the plug leaves his body with a loud wet pop and a relieved grunt from Thor.

 

“Good boy,” Nat praises him again as she admires his loose hole for a moment. He’s about four times wider than he was when they began, and he’ll have no difficulty taking the strap, but difficulty isn’t the point now. Now it’s about his pleasure and getting him to climax.

 

Nat lines up, giving him a moment’s warning by taking two generous handfuls of flesh at either side of Thor’s hips; his love‑handles proved last time to be a totally superior place to grasp in comparison to the dips of his tight waist the years before.

 

And of course Natasha appreciates the god of thunder no matter his shape, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t adore his body like this.

 

“There you go, clever boy,” she croons as she eases inside him, pushing out a low, heaving‑moan from the Asgardian.

 

She doesn’t go all the way in just yet, first taking up his leash again and creating a firm and constant strain on it to keep Thor’s back arched nicely.

 

It’s not enough to asphyxiate him, but an occasional tug will make him see stars, and when she begins to slowly build a rhythm, thrusting in and out until he’s eventually taking her all the way to the hilt, that’s when she starts to use it.

 

It’s a pity she can’t see how red-faced he is, or how delicious he looks as he huffs and blinks hard after each pull; his mouth slightly askew and the veins in his temples prominent. He never once reaches to try and find relief from the collar though, and so Nat is assured she’s got the ratio just right.

 

Thor is dribbling precum all over the sheets now, his big, low hanging belly pushing back against his hard cock as the ribs of the strap rub along his prostate in both directions and then the tiniest sound escapes him.

 

“What’s that, puppy?” Nat purrs as she gives another slow pull against the leash to briefly cut off Thor’s air‑supply before letting him go.

 

“C‑cum,” he squeaks the end of his sentence as he gasps for air, stars still dotting the edges of his vision. “I‑I’m going to cum,” he whimpers.

 

“Alright, good boy,” Nat smiles, letting his use of words slide tonight given that he’s clearly struggling to stay in character when he’s this overwhelmed.

 

She charges her thrusts a little then, waiting until Thor is at the point of panting loud, almost panicked cries and then, just when she catches that hitch in his breath and she knows he’s right on top of his orgasm, she pulls the leash, and Thor’s vision whites out as he cums harder than he ever has.

 

He collapses when that tension is no longer there to hold him up, and he can neither hear nor see what’s going on around him as he starts melting into the mattress, stars dancing behind his eyelids.

 

The first thing he actually feels again is Natasha gently fiddling with his collar to take it off so she can begin his aftercare and rub lotion into his choke‑marks.

 

“Here, sweetheart,” she tuts, sitting at his end of the bed and lifting his heavy head into her lap before taking the headband off and rubbing behind his real ears to relieve them of the pressure.

 

Thor murmurs a pathetic sound; gratitude mixed with total adoration as Nat moves on to lovingly rubbing his neck with the soothing lotion.

 

She stays at it even when the friction has eased, and Thor actually drifts off for a little while thanks to the sheer bliss of her hands working out all his aches.

 

“Okay, baby boy,” Nat tuts, setting the tub of salve aside and pulling the comforter around him as she brings his had more securely into her lap. “You still with me?” she checks in.

 

It’s all Thor can do just to nod.

 

He’s aware of her gently raking her fingers through his overgrown tresses now, applying extra pressure on his scalp each time.

 

The thunder god moans blissfully as she starts to properly massage him, and he can see her smile without even opening his eyes.

 

“Is that good, big guy?” she purrs.

 

Thor nods again and rubs his face against her thigh devotedly.

 

“You did so well tonight, sweetheart. I’m really proud of you,” Nat hushes, one hand migrating lower to rub his back and make sure the soft grey fleece is tucked around the thunder god’s spent and naked body.

 

“Thank you, mama,” he murmurs, evidently in desperate need to recuperate after such an intense session as he begins to fall asleep.

 

Nat smiles fondly, leaning down to kiss his rosy cheek as she continues petting him. To share a bath together like they usually do would be nice, but for just an hour or so, she’ll let her loyal little pup have some rest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic has a few more chapters to go but i'm slowly getting there 😪


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